The road from home to the Eastern Cape baffled expectations, a winter landscape in mid summer. Lacking lush green the eyes took in only drought painted patterns of brown and black. Most rivers crossed bereft of water, we looked down on sand and stone. Out of sync seasons, left me feeling that I was watching a faulty movie, lips speaking out of step with mouths movements.
The senses remember, the sound of rain on the tin roof of my childhood home. The way that it drowned out every other sense, centring the spirit. At Affi Lande that sudden sound closed a circle between past and present, as clouds gifted the earth below. Joyful relief painted the owner’s face as he told us that their last rainfall was 4 mm a month prior.
While the drum of rain ruled out conversation, coffee worked its magic. Delicious chicken pie and chicken salad were spot on.
In the shop, I found the perfect gift for a special friend.
The door in the garden had a CS Lewis feel. As if in stepping through the mind could exit one dimension and enter a world of fantasy.
Within 10 minutes back on the road the outside temperature soared from 20° C back to 34°. An invisible door from the respite of an oasis, back to the harsh reality of drought.